


Abigail Rasmodius and the Tower of Disappointing Father Figures

by Melodic



Category: Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, alt title: yer a wizard abby, more characters later - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-27
Updated: 2020-02-13
Packaged: 2021-02-18 16:16:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21580453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melodic/pseuds/Melodic
Summary: In which a young woman with violet hair discovers she has inherited magical powers and sets about learning to use them; a magician finally comes across the apprentice he has long sought; Pierre and Caroline get a divorce, probably.
Relationships: Abigail & Wizard | M. Rasmodius
Comments: 7
Kudos: 44





	1. Abigail Rasmodius and the Remarkable Revelation

It started with a knock at the door.

People did not knock at the door to his tower. The only person who ever visited was the farmer from north of the woods, and they typically just barged in with no regard to niceties. Who could possibly be knocking at his door? It was so improbable that the first time he heard it he assumed it was some kind of animal or some such outside and went back to his work.

It came again after a few minutes. A polite, persistent rap. Unmistakable. There was someone at the door. He put down his book, and gathered his robes, and approached carefully. Some very lost traveler, perhaps. He would send them on the correct path back to town and get back to enjoying his afternoon. That was all. He opened the door to the brisk fall air and saw a short, chubby young woman with vibrantly purple hair staring up at him.

"Uh, hi." she said. "My name is Abigail and--"

"Oh no." said the Wizard aloud, before he could stop himself.

\--

The two sat at his table with two cups of strongly smelling, oddly colored tea that only Rasmodius was drinking, in awkward silence. Abigail tapped her feet anxiously against the legs of her chair while the Wizard stared across the room, fingers steepled. She was beginning to get nervous. The man had brusquely invited her in and now seemed to be very deep in thought about something. The interior of the tower somehow looked exactly as a mysterious tower in the woods should: strange teas, a bubbling cauldron, shelves of books. She squinted and tried to read some of the titles from where she was, but they all seemed to be written in an alphabet should could neither understand nor recognize.

"So." he said, finally, breaking the silence and making her jump. "You have finally come to see me." 

"Oh. Um, yeah."

He sighed, and took off his hat, and ran his fingers through his hair. Abagail suddenly thought he looked very old. "I thought you would, eventually."

"You did?"

"Of course." He straightened his back. "It was inevitable that you would realize the truth eventually. You must, after all, be a very intelligent young woman." There was an odd note of pride in his voice, as if he were complimenting himself more than her. "Tell me though, what was it?"

"Huh?"

"What is it that finally brought you to my doorstep, girl?"

"Oh!" She said, looking relieved. "I'm here because of my hair."

"...Your hair?"

Abigail took a deep breath, and then words started pouring out at rapid fire. "Okay, so a few weeks ago I noticed that my hair was still super purple, even though I hadn't dyed it since last winter. It hadn't faded at all and I didn't have any roots and that's impossible, right? I told Sebastian and Sam and they thought I was crazy and probably just re-dyed it at some point and forgot, but I know I'd remember because I always dye it at Sebastian's house so my mom doesn't hover around making passive-aggressive comments about it. And it was definitely longer than it had been in winter, at least an inch or so. I swear to Yoba, it was growing in purple. From my head. But that's definitely not possible, I even asked Sebastian's stepdad and he said it isn't. So I thought, maybe it's magic? Because weird stuff happens in the valley sometimes. Everyone knows it, even if they don't really talk about it."

She was talking with her hands now, emphatic but with clarity. "I needed to be sure somehow. So I grabbed a box of hair dye from my dad's shop and made Sebastian help me dye it brown again, and after it dried I was a regular brunette and everything was fine. But then--" her voice took on a high pitch, a tinge of panic, "I woke up the next morning and it looked _exactly like this._ " she said, pointing to her bright purple locks.

"We all _freaked out_. Obviously something weird was going on. We looked online, and got nothing. I talked to Marlon, the guy in the mountains who handles the monsters, but he didn't have any idea either. So I thought that--" she finally trailed off and got quieter. "...I would come talk to you. Since you're the definition of weird stuff that happens in the valley. No offense. Sorry, I don't mean you're weird. You just seem to know about weird stuff."

The Wizard, who had been listening carefully to all of this, blinked slowly, then finished the last of his tea and placed it carefully on the table. "You are telling me that you came all the way here because of your hair? That's all?"

Abigail looked puzzled, and nodded.

The Wizard breathed a sigh of relief, and thought how lucky he is that he hadn't said anything too terribly revealing earlier. The situation was troublesome, but perhaps not so troublesome as he had feared. It would have to be dealt with in any case, but it could be handled delicately. In fact, he thought, It may well be capable of becoming a boon.

"So, do you know? What could cause something like this?" she asked, leaning forward.

"Causing your hair to turn violet? Yes." He stood up from his chair and pushed it in, and grabbed his hat and replaced it on his head. "Child, you said your name was Abigail?"

"I'm not a kid, but yes."

"Everyone is a child when you as old as I am. You are the one who changed your hair color."

"But I told you, I--"

"Not with anything that came out of a box." He waved his hand dismissively. "It changed because you wanted it to change. You did it with magic."

"What?"

"You, Abigail," he said, "are a wizard."


	2. Abigail Rasmodius and the Sorcerer's Book

There was a beat of stunned silence. Rasmodius went over to one of his shelves and began scanning the titles earnestly for something in particular. 

"I'm a wizard?" she asked, incredulous.

"Well, not yet." he said, with a hand on his chin, still looking for the right book. "You have magical ability. You will become a wizard, if you so decide, with adequate study." 

Her first surreal thought was that no, she'd never really liked playing wizards, always more of a rogue or warrior type. Her second thought was to note that her tea was definitely cold, and the cup was a bit chipped. Then, as her hands curled into fists and a grin slowly spread across her face, she finally digested the gravity of the situation. This was the adventure she had been waiting for, the memorable thing, the opportunity she'd looked for her whole life. _Dad is gonna be so mad,_ she thought, almost laughing.

"Ah!" exclaimed Rasmodius, oblivious, and removed a small volume bound in green and gold. "This is the ticket." He slid it across the table towards her, businesslike. "You will take this home and read the first chapter. Do try not to spill anything on it, it's my only copy. Now, we must speak of your training."

"I get training?" she asked, excited.

"If you want it. If instead you would like to go home and forget this whole thing ever happened, I have something downstairs that will take care of your hair, though I cannot guarantee you will be free of other magical irritations. They tend to happen once such abilities have come to the fore. I offer because I believe training you to use them correctly is safer than the alternative." He paused, for a moment. "In truth, I have been looking for an apprentice for quite some time. But I will not fault you for disinterest. These are dangerous forces and--"

"No! I want the training!" Abigail had never been more excited for anything in her life. "I'm magic. This is going to be awesome."

He frowned, and raised an eyebrow at her. "I must insist you take this seriously. It is not a game. It can be difficult, and dangerous, and isolating work." 

Abigail did her very hardest to banish her smile and look as grave as possible. "I want to learn magic."

He nodded. "Very well. Do your assigned reading, and meet me at the mountain lake tomorrow morning. Now, though, I really must get back to work, and I'm sure your parents are wondering where you are."

"What are we going to do at the lake?" she said, standing up to go.

"There is something in the caves I would like to show you. It will be an instructive first lesson."

" _Inside_ the caves?" Her grin returned in full force. 

"Yes." he said, shooing her outside. "You're not afraid of bugs, are you? I suppose it doesn't matter. There are preparations to be made first, and I do not have the time to answer more questions. Have a good evening, Abigail, and try not do any accidental magic in the meantime." and he shut the door and she was standing alone on the doorstep at dusk. 

Abigail spent a moment standing on the steps in the brisk fall air, a little in shock, clutching her little green book. This was, by far, the most interesting thing that had ever happened to her.

The distant hoot of an owl reminded her that she was very deep in the woods and it was about to get dark, and she practically ran home so her parents wouldn't yell at her, and definitely not because she was scared of being alone in the woods at night or anything. 

\--

When she got home, her parents were already eating dinner. 

"Abby, where have you been? We've been looking all over." her mother said, full of concern. "Your dad made that cobbler you like, and we were so worried when you didn't come home."

"Sorry, mom."

"Is that a book?" her dad asked.

She glanced down at it, realizing she'd forgotten to hide it, and then back at them. "Oh, yeah. It's, um, an rpg book. I borrowed it from Sam." She didn't know why she lied. The wizard hadn't said it was a secret or anything. She just had a sinking feeling if she told them what it was, somehow it would be taken away. 

"Oh! More of your Solian Chronicles?"

"Solarian, mom. I just remembered, my online class has a thing due tonight. I better go finish it."

"Don't you want dinner?" her dad asked, puzzled.

"Not hungry!" she yelled behind her, heading straight to her room.

At the table, Pierre and Caroline resumed eating with a shrug.

She sighed. "You know, dear, I'm not sure how I feel about all those games. All that fighting with swords and monsters and demons. That sort of violence can't be a good influence, can it?"

"Well," he said thoughtfully, "they are killing the demons, right? Being the good guys? Can't be all that bad."

"I just don't like the thought of any sort of killing."

"What is she supposed to do, make friends with the monsters? You and Jodi just worry each other to death over these things. I'd much rather she be at Robin's than running around the old farm all night like she used to, odd as Robin is. At least she's safe and sound."

"I suppose you're right, honey. Pass the salt, will you?" 

\--

Abigail practically ran to her room and sat down on her bed to examine her new treasure. It was carefully hardcover bound, with nothing on the cover. She opened it eagerly and flipped to the first page with text.

It was made entirely of weird symbols she couldn't make heads or tails of. Complete nonsense. Definitely not any language she'd ever seen before.

 _What bullshit._ she thought. Was this some kind of joke? He didn't seem to be joking at the tower. Or the kind of person who pulled pranks. Maybe it was some kind of test? 

She would have to ask him tomorrow. _In the mines,_ she remembered. _Where the monsters are._ She couldn't wait to tell Sam and Sebastian about this.

She spent the night pouring over the symbols, trying to make sense of them to no avail, in between eating three consecutive slices of cold blackberry cobbler.


	3. Abigail Rasmodius and a Series of Particular Truths

The Wizard was already waiting at the edge of the mountain lake at precisely 7:00 am sharp, with a lantern in one hand and a parchment map in the other, when he saw her in the distance, making her way north. Hard to miss, what with the color of her head. She was on time. Excellent. 

He had been pensive since last night. The girl did look so much like her mother. Perhaps he was making a terrible mistake. _You are not really her father,_ he thought, _not in any meaningful sense of the word._ She did need to be trained, that was true. Uncontrolled powers were a danger to everyone around her. Maybe he could find someone else. Welwick didn't have an apprentice. Yes, he could plead with Welwick to take over and call the whole thing off. No need to insert himself into her life. He had no right. And imagine if Caroline found out.

Yet he had a...responsibility, of a sort. It was his fault the girl was magic, and from that it was therefore his fault she was scared and confused. At this point it was his fault that this whole damned valley was--

 _Don't be so vain,_ he reminded himself. _There have been shadows here for millennia, and the star for eons. Your own contributions are minor._

He mustn't overthink this. He had a terrible habit, he knew, of thinking too much, locked up in his tower with his potions and his books and nothing but his own thoughts running in circles. He also mustn't foist his problems onto anyone else, avoid what needs to be done, shirk his obligations. There was a girl in the valley who needed to be taught, and he was in need of a neophyte to whom to pass on his teachings. He was a professional. She will be a protégé, nothing more and nothing less.

He was brought out of his thoughts when she practically ran up the hill, with a sword at her side and an eager grin, and started talking as soon as he was close enough to hear her. "Hey! So what are we going to do down in the caves? Are we looking for rare magic crystals? Or some weird monster extract we need to make potions? Do secret coven meetings happen there? Are there ghosts? What's the plan?"

He blinked. "Why on earth," he asked in utter bewilderment, "did you bring a weapon?"

She crossed her arms. "For protection, obviously. The monsters and stuff?"

"Where did you ever get something like that? What use has a shopkeeper's daughter for a sword?" he continued, still puzzled.

"Bought it online." she said, matter of factly. "It's not a super great one, but I've been practicing, and the farmer said you could get through the first few levels easy with just a wooden one, so I figure--"

_"Online?"_

"Yeah! It's real and everything." She took a few practice swings, with surprising skill. The blade was real, and sharp, and this was evident. "I'm ready for anything. So, tell me! What are we doing?"

"Put that away before you hurt someone! For goodness' sake." He had spent 30 seconds talking to this girl and he was already exhausted. "Your...dedication to preparedness is commendable. Thinking about the possible dangers ahead and what resources you may require is a good habit. But we will have no need for anything like that today. Nothing in these caves will threaten you as long as you are with me."

She frowned, and reluctantly sheathed her sword, looking very disappointed for someone who has just been told she was in no danger. 

"If we are quite done waving around sharp things, let us begin. The walk ahead is a bit long." And with that he turned and crossed the bridge towards the mouth of the mines, not looking behind him.

"You didn't answer any of my questions!" she called after, following. If he heard her, he gave no indication.

Rasmodius stepped over the threshold and into the darkness without a thought. Abigail paused for a moment with trepidation, but followed him in.

One could feel the air change when you went in. It became older, staler, full of the scent of earth. It was dark but spacious, empty and dusty and untouched yet clearly carved out with intention, not a natural formation. Walking in gave you the sense that you are disturbing something, interrupting a stillness. A battered mine-cart, a broken elevator, and a dark stairwell sat in disrepair against cold stone walls, gathering dirt and dust. Whoever built these tunnels surely hadn't used them in a very long time indeed. Rasmodius flicked on his lantern.

"Why do you need that?" she asked, her voice echoing in the cavernous room. "Can't you make light with magic?"

He lowered his voice within the caves. "One does not use magic for that which can be more easily accomplished through mundane means. Let that be your first lesson."

She lowered her own volume in imitation, as when one whispers in a cave full of monsters others tend to think you have a good reason for it. Her excitement broke through regardless. "Why? Is that a rule? Is there some kind of wizard code? Or is there a limit on how much magic you have, so you need to save it up?"

"No." He spoke gravely, and the lamp-light cast strange and eerie shadows across his face. "It is because it makes one a show-off." Rasmodius swept his cape behind him and headed down the stairwell. "Are you coming, or not?"

Abigail threw a last parting glance at the sunlight streaming invitingly through the entrance, and began to descend.

\-- 

The caves were lit by small torches every few feet, small puddles of light they weaved in and out of, but full of so many twists and turns and forks that Abigail quickly lost track of the path they had taken. The floors were even, clearly man-made, but covered in rocks and debris from misuse. Occasionally one could see what used to be mine-cart tracks, buried by years worth of dirt. Pathways were often blocked by rubble, but Rasmodius always seemed to know exactly which rocks to kick aside to find the path forward. Every once in a while they heard buzzing coming from one way or another, but Rasmodius steadfastly avoided those paths when he heard it, murmuring something about taking the long way around. Stalagmites and stalactites poked up or down or out here and there, and sometimes she swore she could hear running water.

Abigail ran one had across the cavern walls as they walked, sometimes trying to identify the rocks. "Are you going to tell me now? About why we're here?"

"Your questions about ghosts and covens and magic crystals? I'm afraid not." He shook his head ruefully. "Such things are entirely fictitious. Hackneyed nonsense from the minds of a few over-imaginative mundanes." 

"Really? All of it?" She had the expression of someone who'd just seen a puppy get kicked. "I know that a ton of that stuff is probably way off, but I expected at least a little..."

"Well," he paused thoughtfully, "I suppose ghosts do exist, but--"

_"Really?!"_

"Not in the way you're thinking. Regardless, we're not here to see any, so please contain your excitement."

"And we're here to see what, exactly?"

"We are going," he stood up straight in order to announce this with due ceremony and gravity, "to see the ruins of a war."

Abigail did not seem impressed. "What kind of war happened all the way down here?"

"All will be revealed in due time." he said, very wizened and dramatic.

She snorted. Rasmodius thought something about how young people today have no appreciation for gravitas. So difficult to impress.

They kept walking, mostly in silence. The lanterns on the walls becoming rarer, spaced further apart or absent entirely, giving the place a claustrophic feeling of ever-enclosing darkness. Abigail shivered. It seemed like every level was getting a little colder. Sometimes she thought she saw eyes watching them from the shadows. She kept a hand near her sword. It seemed like such an exciting idea this morning, learning magic and seeing monsters up close. Now she'd been walking for an hour in the dark, and she was freezing, and hadn't seen anything but rocks. How much did she know about this guy, anyway? Or about magic? What if she was doing something incredibly stupid and rash? And now she was too deep underground to turn back? She should say something. If only to fill the eerie silence.

"So...you said that I'm a wizard."

"You will be, with proper training, yes." He was pocketing a strange mushroom off the ground and glancing at his map, paying her very little attention.

"Why me?"

"Wrong question."

"What?" she asked, indignant. "How can something be the wrong question?" 

"Too vague. Do you even know what you are asking? Try again, child. You must learn to ask the right questions if you intend to get the right answers."

"That's stupid."

He said nothing, and kept walking. She huffed, and thought a while, watching the way her footsteps created little clouds of dust. 

"What makes someone a wizard?" she asked.

"Wrong again."

"How is that one vague?"

"It is not vague, it is premature. It is important to ask things in the right order. You still don't know what you're asking."

She made a frustrated whine. "What is a wizard, even?"

"Excellent!" he said, to her surprise, as he turned to face her. "Much better, you're almost there. Take one more step back." He had stopped in the middle of the cavern, looking at her expectantly.

"Uh. What is magic?"

"There you are." He nodded curtly, and smiled. "Magic is the art and science of causing change in conformity with will." 

"And a wizard is someone who does magic?"

"That was a statement with a rising intonation, not a question, and it's a bit of an oversimplification, but for the time being we will say yes."

"Okay, great. Then what makes someone--" she tried to phrase this one carefully. " _able to do_ magic? Like you said I can?"

"Ah. Yes. That is...a bit complicated. Really, there's a number of ways. And not all of them are understood." _This is the hard part, Rasmodius,_ he thought. _Handle it delicately._ He wouldn't lie to her. He'd already told himself he wouldn't lie. He would simply give her a set of very particular truths.

"Hypothetically anyone can become capable of doing so. Simple alchemy and the use of totems and charms can be done by any mundane who follows the instructions correctly. Like an instrument or a second language, the potential exists in everyone, most simply don't learn." He turned and continued walking as he spoke. He seemed lost in thought; he was avoiding her eyes. "Generally, repeated and prolonged exposure to magical phenomena over time is known to grant further powers. The thing you must know about magic, Abigail, before you become involved in all this, is that it is sticky. It clings. Gets itself into your eyes, begins to run in your blood. Soon you are seeing and hearing things no one else can, monsters speak to you as a friend, and your hair turns strange colors. It will not leave you, once you begin."

"You said, yesterday, that there are strange things in the Valley. That is quite true. Much exists in this valley that you have not yet seen, and much of it is supernatural. Why," he said, trying not to wince, "I would not be surprised if someone were to develop magical ability simply by living here as long as you have."

Any clever person knows a particular, curated set of truths, said the right way and in the right order, will always be superior to even the most well-crafted lie. 

"I guess that makes sense. Stardew Valley really is weird." Abigail realized they'd been walking for ages. Her feet were beginning to hurt, even in her best hiking boots. They came to a fork in the caverns.

"This is it." he said. "The ruins are just up ahead."

Abigail breathed a sigh of relief. It was freezing now, cold enough to see your breath, and very dark. Who knew how far underground they were. They took the left-hand path.


End file.
